Date: Tue, 11 Mar 2003 23:49:02 -0500
From: Stabbing Westward Junkie <youarenotyourf_ckingkhakis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dylan Thomas By The Dying Light - Chapter Seven

[Author's Note: Thanks again to all who wrote to me with their thoughts on
the last chapter, and I give many hopeless blushes to those who told me they
sacrificed going to important classes, appointments, or even work simply to
read this story. The knowledge of this seriously knocked me on my ass. Thank
you... I think it is the greatest compliment I have ever received. A shout
out to Cory as well... thank you for all your kind words... they were poetry
in and of themselves. I am sorry this chapter has been so delayed... but I
hope it was worth the wait. - bows to Tace - Thank you, especially, Tace...
your honesty, friendship and 'fangirl' affliction means more than you could
ever know. - T]

	It has been two weeks and a day since Shae fell into the coma. Absolutely
nothing noteworthy has happened between now and then, excepting his gradual
improvement in health. I've been visiting him each day, and each time gets
better and better, with fewer monitors taped to his skin and less needles
shoved into his flesh. He has gotten colour back to his face, and is
breathing without the aid of an oxygen mask. But still no sign of waking.
The doctors tell me that everything physically is fine, they're just waiting
for him to wake up. His head wound is almost healed; the bone has started to
reconstruct itself and the plate was taken off. They've still got his head
bandaged now, but at least they've washed his hair and skin, ridding it of
the battlescars of blood and pain.

	As for myself, my shoulder is doing alright, except for the fact that I
can't lift my arm above my head without it protesting painfully. I've mostly
just been moping around in black, depressed moods, avoiding everyone,
including Brendan. I just can't make myself be sociable; my brain is a
swollen, worried mess with all of its energy and power locked on Shae.
Jamie's words have not left my memory, but I haven't been able to go into
Shae's room since I got back. Everytime I try, I start to feel sick and I
have to turn away.

	I lean against his door now, my head pressed to the wall, my hand clasping
the handle tightly, desperately. I want to go in... I want to find out what
Jamie was talking about... but can I? Or will I walk in there and crumple to
the ground in the face of all his stuff, of his aura imprinted in the very
walls and floor? I miss him so much.. it's incredible how much I do. I've
never missed anyone like this. But then again, I've never loved someone so
much. I just want him to appear, healthy and well, and let me hold him for
as long as I need to, not cracking any stupid jokes or anything like that.
Just standing there silently, letting me hug him. God... what a fucking
shitty mess.

	And on that thought, I push all others aside and open his door, keeping my
gaze on the carpet as I close it behind me. Instantly I am bombarded with
his scent, one I have missed and has temporarily been replaced with nasty
hospital smell. It envelopes me like some sort of angelic, erotic mist, and
I stand there, trembling slightly, breathing it in deeply, greedily. The
soft undertone of aftershave combined with his usual forest-like smell, and
the faint touch of cologne. It sinks in through my lungs and perforates my
entire body until I can breathe it in no more and I exhale shakily, feeling
the whole of Life rise up and attack me as I do so. This is too much.. too
much, I can hear my brain screaming feverishly at me. Get out, get out...
this is not your room... this is his... this is wrong.

	But I open my eyes slowly, trying to ignore the yelling in my head. As I
do, my gaze falls to his bed. Frowning slightly, I take a step closer,
trying to figure out what is lying on the sheets, still unmade from when he
last lay in them. A square of something glitters up at me, and I don't see
what it is until I am almost kneeling on the bed, my hand outstretched to
touch it. And when I do recognize it, my hand jerks away as if bitten, and I
stare at it blankly, not knowing whether to laugh or scream. It is my
picture. The one he broke... except it's not broken any longer. The glass is
fixed, and the frame is back together, the cracks barely visable. The
photograph looks almost perfect, and I pick it up slowly, unbelievingly,
wanting to cry but having no more tears left.

	"Jesus," I whisper, staring at it. His photographed eyes stare out at me
penetratingly, clairvoyantly, and I gasp, shuddering, as their memory comes
back to me. I've been without them for two weeks... something I always took
for granted gone. I hold the frame as cautiously as I can, staring at it
wonderingly, feeling a helpless, hopeful grin touch my lips. The pain of all
of this makes itself known to me as I hold it, reminds me that I am in his
room without him, that he is gone to some place that I cannot follow him to,
but in this moment the pain is beautiful. A bitter beautiful, but one that I
would not trade for any other just now. Amongst all the hell surrounding me,
I hold in my hands a peice of pure, undisputable Hope. Something that was
once broken is now remade... by the hands of one whose heart I thought I had
lost.

	Gently letting the frame lie back down on the bed, I turn away, my eyes
bright with a slow-kindling faith, and make my way to his desk. Pulling out
the grey, rolling chair, I sit down in it carefully, perching myself on the
edge of it as I behold his books. They lie in a cluttered, hasty mess on the
table, which is also strewn with countless pencils and pens, a half-finished
glass of water, and a stack of 'Stop Bedwetting!' pamphlets, which makes me
laugh helplessly, remembering all the times Shae'd snuck them into people's
backpacks and lockers just for the fun of seeing their faces when they
pulled them out again.

	Taking a deep breath, I look to the first notebook, which is a sleek,
un-used looking sheaf of paper. Hesitantly I open the cover and begin to
turn the pages, my eyes flickering over the scant notes quickly. But I find
nothing of Jamie's confessions, and I close it, putting it aside. The next
are textbooks, and I push them aside, knowing that if he wrote in them, he'd
be paying a hefty fine and so wouldn't do it for that reason. The next are
notebooks for the rest of his courses, and I slowly look through them all,
smiling at the little doodles on the margins, but none of them being what I
am looking for. Finally the last book comes to veiw, and I stare at it in
consternation. I have never seen this one before. It's cover is a dark rose
colour, gone white in slender traceries all over it where it has bent. It
looks old, and well-used. I can see the pages sticking out, most are rumpled
at the edges and yellowed slightly. I stare at it for a moment longer, and
then open it.

	The first page comes into view, and I pale, feeling my blood sink out of my
head and into my heart, where it sits there sluggishly, awash in shock. In
the center of the page is an unmistakable sketch of my face, done in a light
green ink, and below it is his flowing script, a few stanzas of a song I
know all too well. I stare at it stupidly, noticing how exaggerated my eyes
seem.... eyelashes long and sweeping, and my irises done with almost
painstaking intricacy.

	'I alone love you
	I alone tempt you
	I alone love you
	Fear is not the end of this'

	My mouth dry and my eyes starting to sting, I turn to the next page.

	'Where were you upon the day upon the night when the last star died?'

	Below that is a starkly drawn male silhouette, superimposed on a pair of
cracked, bleeding lips. I lift my fingers and run them over the picture
wonderingly, letting myself feel the grooves where the pen bit deep, unable
to shake the feeling that I have him spread out before me, like I have his
heart completely at my discovery. I keep turning the pages slowly, until one
catches my eye, and literally sends me falling off the chair once I have
completed reading the words gathered on its pristine surface. Below it is a
picture of my face, again... but very different than the first. I am
depicted with my eyes closed, and my lips parted, tears trailing out from
under my eyelids... if it wasn't of me, it would look very, very, very sexy.

	'Velvet sky
	In my dreams it did blush darkly
	I had you alone, in my arms
	Naked and gloriously.

	I pushed you down
	Hurt you until you cried
	I made you mine, under darkened skies
	Made it so that my desire you could not deny

	Your ocean eyes
	And darkling hair
	Covered in tears, and sweat
	You pushed up against me
	Until our throbbing needs met

	This place of sin
	And endless painful submission
	Is the deepest throne of my heart
	And I have you shackled, chained and bound there
	So that our secret can never part.'

	Shaking, I sit on the floor with the book in my lap, re-reading the stanzas
slowly, undeniable arousal building despite of it all. Jesus... Jesus. I...
never knew this... God...

	The next page is a flowing sketch done in bright red ink, of two males, one
with layered, shoulder-length hair, the other's is hanging in touseled
discourse over his hidden eyes. They have their arms wrapped around each
other tightly, heads resting on the others shoulders. Their hips are pressed
together, and one has his hand slipped in between the two of them,
undoubtably creating the look of extacy that hangs erotic and complete on
the other's face. Under it is penned the words: 'Shae + Miah in Never Never
Land'. I gape at it helplessly, unable to tear my eyes away from it as my
groin begins to burn. The next pages are similar in their design, all of
them having me featuring somehow, some dark and angry, others stark and
plain. The last page captures my attention completely, and I stare at it for
what feels like hours, the words burning like molten amber into my mind. The
backround is black, the words white and blazing.

	'i've loved you for an eternity and a day. i am unrequited and forgotten, a
quill of infandum lost amongst the grey. but i cannot cease desiring you --
my body lusts like nothing i have ever experienced outside of all that is
You. the logics of my mind are like feathers in the face of a gale, and they
are torn and tossed amongst the rain and lacerating lightning. you are my
truth, my hatred, my neverending story. i wish i could lose you so that i
could say i had you. i wish i could have you so i could lose you. in the
presence of my struggle, the beauty of you alone i cannot shake. you invade
all my private moments, and strike down every defence i erect against you.
in the darkness of it all, you have brought me down to nothing. you have
pulled me down to the level of a bleeding, whimpering, crying whore, spread
and begging for more. and i hate you for this, miah. i hate you. because you
have defeated me. you have made me want you in the ways that i have never
wanted anyone. i hate you because you have made me love you so completely. i
am your perfect slave. if only you could realize that you hold me in your
thrall, your every wish is my wish. my wrists are bound, my mouth gagged
shut. yet you will not touch me. tempt me only. is this what it comes to?'

	I do not realize I am crying until the tears spatter on the page, making
the black inked backround begin to run. But I cannot stop it, nor can I move
the book away, my eyes locked on the words that have echoed in my heart
since I first fell in love with him, the words that looked like they are
torn straight from my deepest, most hidden heart. Thoughts crowd my feverish
mind, random visions of him overlayed with this new, sudden knowledge and
creating a longing so deep and demanding in my heart that I almost faint
dead away.

	"Shae..." I whisper disbelievingly, gaping at the page. "Shae..."

	And then a sudden noise makes my head snap up and the book fall, open, to
the side. The door is moving, swinging open, and I am suddenly presented
with an impossible vision of Shae. I gasp as I see him, and stumble
backwards, hitting my head resoundingly on the corner of his bedframe. He
stands there silently, his eyes looking from me to the book lying at my
side. I stare up at him in shock, not quite able to process this. His face
is pale and withdrawn, his eyes as strong as ever, but with a veneer of pain
that shimmers darkly in their depths, pain experienced and overcome, but the
memory never, ever erased. Their blueness sears me unforgivingly, and I can
hear myself stammering as he looks to the book again. His hair is tied back
in a untidy ponytail, several wisps of straw-coloured strands escaping the
tie and hanging around his elegant features. His jacket hangs on his
shoulders limply; his whole body looks skinnier than I remember it to be.
One hand is holding onto the strap of his backpack, the other holds onto the
door handle absently. The medical tape is still stuck on the backs of his
hands, and I see his hospital bracelet on his wrist. He stands there
strangely, looking for all the world like he is about to dissapear any
second now.

	"What... what the.. what the hell are you doing here?" I sputter, unable to
stop myself, tears still crowding my gaze.

	He watches me silently for a moment longer, and I see his tongue dart out
to moisten his pale lips slowly. When he speaks, it is his usual calm voice,
giving nothing of his experience away. This is when I start to feel the
first irrational strains of anger build.

	"They let me go today. I demanded to come home."

	"You demanded." I can feel myself visably starting to shake, a rage so
majestic throbbing in my chest and hands. I can't pinpoint why I am angry..
all I know is that I feel like I am going to explode..

	"Yes."

	"But.. you were.. in coma. How the hell did.... they can't.... you
SHOULDN'T BE HERE! You were in a coma!!"

	"I woke up." Simply stated, calm.

	I stare at him, shaking like a leaf, anger peircing my gaze. He stands
there as quietly as ever, though, simply gazing back at me, his eyes caught
in their usual mysterious tranquility, even though his body looks fragile
and breakable. He shifts slightly as he stands there and looks away for a
second, moistening his lips again before looking back. And when he does, I
begin to understand my anger.

	"How do you feel?" I ask him, my fists clenching.

	"Fine... they took the bandage off this morning.. so I have stitches now..
and a little bandaid type thing..."

	" 'Fine'," I echo in a hiss. "You feel fine."

	"Yes..." he says clearly, doubt and confusion finally beginning to show in
his gaze. "What about you?" he asks carefully, concern welling up in his
eyes as he says this.

	And I think this is when I snap. I slowly get to my feet. He hasn't said
anything about the book. He hasn't asked me why am I in his room. Surely he
knows what I have been doing here. But instead, he asks me how I am. He's
been off in fucking nowhere land for the past two weeks, and then decides to
waltz back in here like nothing even happened. He scared the fucking shit
out of me.. and yet here he is, as calm as anything, looking at me with that
GODDAMNED tranquil gaze, being so strong.. always being so strong.. taking
everything onto his shoulders as usual. And he's come out of it fine. Is
standing in the goddamned doorway, looking beautiful and for the most part,
unscathed. I begin to see red.

	"You almost died," I snap, my voice rising hysterically. "My best friend
almost died. How the fuck do you think I am?"

	He looks away and down. We stand there like this for a few moments, he with
his gaze downcast, and me almost shaking myself to bits with rage.

	"I'm sorry," he whispers suddenly, his soft voice laced with sincerity,
empathy and fear. I can see the bandaid through his hair now. "I'm...
really.. sorry."

	My mouth falls open. He's sorry?? He's apologizing to me, after HE was the
one who almost died? What the fuck...?

	"Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask him, forgetting myself as I begin to
advance on him, wanting to shake him senseless.

	"... what do you mean?" He asks uncomfortably, after a moment, holding his
ground as I approach, looking at me nervously.

	"Why the HELL are you sorry?!? WHY? THIS WAS MY FAULT!!!" I scream this at
him, and he flinches.

	"This wasn't your fault, Miah," he says calmly, firmly, and again I see him
become divine in front of my eyes, a holy strength to him that I cannot
fathom or touch. And I hate him for it.

	"Fuck you!!" I yell, shaking. "You are such an asshole, do you know that??
I've been sitting here for fifteen days, crying my eyes out, praying to gods
that I don't even believe in to save you, to bring you back to me. MY WHOLE
WORLD HAS BEEN A MESS without you and then suddenly you come back into it
like NOTHING happened!!! You stand here at this fucking door, looking like
you've just had a bad cold and that's all!! Not like you almost had your
brains smashed to bits! Not like I sat beside your bed every single day,
holding your hand, begging you to make it through! AND YOU SAY YOU'RE
SORRY!!!!!!"

	And with that, I scream and fly at him. Never mind that he's just gotten
out of a coma. He takes an involuntary step back and throws his hands up to
stop me, but I come at him too fast, and he flies backward, landing on the
floor with me on top of him. We slide on the floor for about a foot until my
hands connect with a table and yank us to a stop. He's got his hands around
my wrists as I punch at him, and I can't see anything through my white-hot
tears, I can't feel anything but perfect hate and love balanced like a razor
on my heart as I flail wildly at him.

	"I hate you! Why do you have to be so perfect all the time?? Why?!"

	I sob these words incoherently, feeling my fists hit home again and again.
But after a moment, I slow down, realizing that he is making no move to stop
me. He lies under me without moving, his hands on my wrists but not applying
any pressure to slow them down. His eyes are closed, his face a mask of
pain. ACCEPTING pain. I stare at him for a moment, realizing this, and it
only gets me angrier. He's letting me do this! He's letting me punch the
shit out of him because he knows I need to! Rage at this makes me yell at
the top of my lungs. I begin to claw at his chest, his arms, whatever I can
get a hold of, wanting to make him fight me back.

	"Fight back, you asshole! FIGHT BACK!!!"

	I keep hitting him, and he keeps lying there, submitting to it, which makes
me more and more frenzied. But suddenly the door to the dorm flies open, and
I see Brendan run in. But I don't stop hitting Shae, my tears blinding me to
everything but my hatred. I can feel arms reach down around me as if to try
and pull me off, but suddenly Shae is sitting up, shoving them off me.

	"Fuck off!" he screams at Brendan, even as I hit him. "Get the fuck out of
here!!"

	I shriek with rage at this, knowing perfectly well his intent. He's going
to let me spend myself... he's going to let me take what I need, fully and
completely. But I can't stop him... all his good intentions are just making
me angrier and angrier, so I punch harder and harder, some hits connecting,
others hitting the carpet around him. Distantly I see Brendan back out of
the room and close the door, his face as pale as a ghost. I see blood
seeping crimson and angry out of Shae's lip as I hit it, and again and again
I see him wince and flinch under my blows, but always staying still.

	"You left me..." I cry, my arms growing weak as the words leave me. I can
feel my heart twist. "You left me again, Shae... you fucking left me..." And
then the strength comes back and I flail at him again, screaming those words
over and over. "Like you did before... when all I wanted was you to stay and
kiss me again... but you LEFT. How could you DO that? How the hell... could
you.. do... that...."

	And then I am crying too hard to hit him, and suddenly I feel him gripping
my hands tightly, struggling to stop me from moving. I fall limp in his grip
and hang there like a doll, lost in my anguish and long-buried memories.
Dimly I feel him shaking me, and I open my eyes slowly, focusing wearily on
his blood-spattered face. Eyes as blue as blistering skies look up at me,
but their depths are no longer calm. They are inflamed with sudden tears and
wild shock, and then I hear his voice rattling around in my head as he
shakes me again.

	"What...? What?! What did you say...??!" His voice is strange, hysterical.

	"I don't know," I say frantically, still shaking with tears.

	He shakes me again, _hard_, and I shudder.

	"No!! I heard you, Jeremiah!! I HEARD you! What the hell did you SAY??"

	"You left me," I sob brokenly, twitching as grief overcomes me. "That day
in the woods. You kissed me.. so incredible.. you fucked up my whole world
in those two seconds.. made up down and down up... and then you couldn't
even stay so that I could make it be okay... so I could accept what you did.
You just. LEFT. Me there. And you did it again... in the morning I woke up
and you were gone. And then you REALLY left... and I thought you were gonna
fucking DIE on me..."

	I hear his breath become ragged as I speak, and the hands that hold me
begin to shake alarmingly. I open my eyes again, and when I look into his
gaze, I momentarily forget my rage. His eyes stare up at me widely, rimmed
with fear and pain, shock making the irises spiral crazily. His mouth hangs
open uselessly, and I watch disbelievingly as tears begin to flow out of his
eyes and streak down his temples to become lost in his hair.

	"What..." he whispers, and then repeats it again before letting my wrists
go, his hands falling down like stones. He stares up at me in shock, his
fragile face caught up in an expression so intense, yearning and frightened
that it makes me gasp. "What.."

	I wipe at my tears frantically, feeling like my heart has suddenly expanded
to become my entire body.. everytime he touches me I feel it stab directly
into the center of me. I don't really register what I have said to him until
he begins to shake under me, whispering "Fuck..." over and over again, his
eyes locked on mine glassily. But then I am speaking without intervention of
my mind, speaking clumsily, tearfully, wanting to explode into a million
peices.

	"I love you," I whisper, my gaze searching out his desperately. "I just..
didn't know.. how to tell you... I... thought... you would hate me for it..
I thought you gave up on me when I met Leia... I thought the kiss meant
nothing... I..."

	My voice cuts off when he emits a tiny sound of high-pitched pain.

	"...ungh..." He yelps, staring up at me shakily, his eyes wild and filled
with liquid disbelief. I can feel his body trying to breathe, and I hear him
struggling to bring air into his lungs, but something is stopping him. He is
shaking faster and faster, the blood is pouring out of his lip quicker and
quicker, and before I can stop myself, I am leaning down towards him, our
gazes feverishly locked. Then, with a sudden burst of faith, I press myself
forward, my lips pushing down deeply against his. I feel his screamed gasp
as I do this, but I close my eyes and kiss him with reckless abandon, desire
and love burning in my mouth, not letting him move or refuse me. Grabbing
hold of his trembling hands, I push them down onto the carpet and pin them
there, my body sitting astride his. I know I am crying as I kiss him, but I
can't stop to wipe the tears away. It is like my very soul is doing this,
not my body. A hunger deep within me that I didn't even know was there
spurns me on, each touch of his lips like a balm against my burnt core.

	I taste the blood from his lips in my mouth, sticky sweet, and I lick it
hungrily, swallowing it down, kissing him deeper and deeper, more blood
seeping into my mouth. His chest strains against me as we kiss, and soon I
feel his lips moving under mine, matching my desire with a force so strong
that it momentarily paralyzes me. In between every touch of his lips, he
moans desperately, and then I feel his hands sliding under my grip, his
fingers entwining painfully with my own. I can feel his fingernails dig into
my skin and draw blood but that only makes me crazier. I taste our combined
tears on his skin, but that isn't enough. Pulling him closer to me, I slip
my tongue past his lips, tasting the inside of his mouth, his sweet spit
sinking into my mouth urgently. I feel his tongue graze mine, and this is
when I lose myself. He cries out into my mouth as I do this, and I feel his
chest shuddering. The kiss has become punishing, bruising, but I can't stop
it, I couldn't stop it if I tried. Yelping "Ah.." again and again, he wraps
his arms around my back, pulling me down on top of him slowly, not letting
me refuse or even think.

	The urgency in his touch sends me spiralling down an endless corridor of
exctacy, my heart finally beginning to understand that this is _Shae_ I have
pinned under me, that this is his mouth so demandingly covering mine, his
body trembling under me. And he isn't stopping it. He isn't shoving me off
in disgust. He isn't freaking out. My heart is pounding dangerously; I can
feel myself starting to lose hold on reality, fear and insane disbelief
shackling me, pulling me dizzily downwards.

	"Shae..." I whisper into his kiss, moving as he begins to take control,
rolling me quickly onto my back, his slender weight resting almost fully on
top of me, his slender arms holding me like I weigh nothing at all. His eyes
are closed tightly, but tears still flow. And I am about to give up on
myself and pull him completely down on top of me when the sound of the door
opening again startles us. Shae looks up quickly, and I see Brendan standing
stock-still in the doorway. Shae's gaze is inflamed and almost insane, but
he has enough control over himself to move off me, crashing onto the floor
beside me, gazing up at Brendan wildly, struggling for breath.

	Brendan gazes at us as if frozen, and as I try to push myself into a seated
position, I see his silent expression start to melt into a wide,
disbelieving grin.

	"...uh..." he stammers, and gesticulates weakly, his eyes darting back and
forth between Shae and I, the both of us shaking uncontrollably and not able
to look at each other. "...sorry... I.. didn't mean... to... interupt. Was
worried... and.. dorm-master is coming to check up on you.. he heard the
yelling..."

	Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shae nod curtly, his hand lifting to
wipe at the blood covering his face, his mouth hanging open in shock still,
his lips swollen from my kiss...

	"I... I'm gonna.. go... but... you should... get cleaned up quick.. he's
coming any second now..." And with that, Brendan turns on one foot and slams
the door quickly, his astonished gaze cutting itself off behind the door.

	Slowly, fearfully, I transfer my gaze over to Shae. He sits next to me, his
chest heaving heavily, his hand pressed to his lips, his fingers trembling.
His gaze is unfocused and blind, lost somewhere in the carpet. His hair has
lost its tie and now hangs in untidy waves around his face, which is
currently caught up in an expression of white shock. I ache to say
something.. to say anything, but the world has suddenly become very
breakable and fragile, much like him. So I struggle to my feet unsteadily,
and wordlessly hold my hand out to him to help him up.

	"Dan is coming..." I say, my voice as dry as a desert breeze.

	He looks up at me slowly, and then nods after a moment, his eyes locked
brilliantly on my own, emotions churning in their radiant depths, making his
whole face seem to drop away and simply leave those eyes, those orbs of
pulsating fear and enlightenment. He looks about to say something, but
instead changes his mind and simply lets me help him up, his hand sliding
into mine hesitantly, his eyes never leaving my face. And then the short
knock on the door makes his hand jerk away.

	"Come in," he says strangely, watching me in desperation. I try to maintain
my balance.

	I turn to look as the door opens, and Dan comes in. A heavy-set man with
Italian features and a deep, rusty voice, he runs all the student-admin
relations in the dorms, and is usually on scene at every hint of trouble. He
eyes us now hawkishly, dark pupils gleaming brightly, suspiciously. But he
speaks politely, his gaze calculating and missing no detail.

	"Everything alright in here? I heard some yelling, I thought."

	I look down, and it is Shae who has to answer, which he does after a long,
awkward pause.

	"Yeah. Sorry. Everything's fine now."

	"You sure?" Dan asks, approaching slowly, glancing at me. "You've got some
blood..." he adds, gesturing to Shae's lip.

	Shae nods and places a hand to the wound, making me flinch in regret. But
his eyes are calmer and more serious as he looks at Dan, his voice steady
and reassuring.

	"Just a bit of a misunderstanding. Everything's fine now, I promise."

	Dan narrows his eyes, but looks to me.

	"Jere? This true?"

	I nod, looking up at him imploringly for a moment before looking away
again. Dan sighs softly and shakes his head at us, heading back towards the
door again.

	"Okay then. Take it easy. Good to have you back, Shae.. we've all missed
you."

	Shae nods gratefully at Dan's sympathetic, rare smile, and after a moment
longer, Dan leaves, gently closing the door behind him. I exhale slowly
after he is gone, and lift weak hands to my hair, dragging my fingers
through it unfeelingly. We both stand there without speaking, and after a
while, I look up at Shae slowly, finding his gaze. He watches me silently,
no sign of any emotion on his face. It is just his eyes that shimmer
endlessly as I stare into them, words pounding in their sapphire brilliance,
words I can't understand, but can feel. His whole being seems to thrum in
that gaze, and it begins to overwhelm me slowly, but I cannot look away,
cannot bring myself to say no to the drug that I've been craving for so
goddamned long...

	I love you, my heart screams, as I stare, and my body turns to oatmeal. The
tall, slender fact of him before me, with the misunderstandings erased and
nothing hidden any longer, becomes more beautiful than ever, but all the
more tinged with danger and mystery. What is going inside that beautiful
head, I wonder desperately, our gazes locked and on fire. What is going to
happen...

	But then he shudders, and then he is stumbling backwards, slamming against
the wall behind him. I gasp and step forward in alarm as he does this, my
gaze registering sudden tears of mithril debilitation in his eyes. He leans
against the wall, shaking, his eyes on mine as he starts to weep. I am
frozen to the spot, his eyes blistering me, his tears paralyzing me with
fear. It is only when he begins to slide down the wall and his eyes to close
because his sobs are becoming too hard to hide that I am able to move. I run
towards him and kneel in front of him as he hits the floor, and then I can
feel my arms slipping around his chest, pulling him close against me.

	I hold him tightly, feeling him lie limply against me, his arms clutching
the material of my shirt tightly, with such strength that it seems he might
tear it. His face is buried in my neck, and I sit there as silently as I
can, trying not to break down as his pain-filled tears and cries sink into
my skin. He is crying so hard... I've never seen him cry so hard... I feel
my heart start to constrict slowly, and I hold him desperately, unable to
say anything to calm him down.. only able to sit there stupidly. He moves
closer and closer until he is completely pressed up against me, his body
wrapped around me tightly. Time becomes a blur as we sit there, and I don't
know how much of it passes by until his sobs finally dwindle down into
whimpering moans, and his hands fall limply to the floor. I hold him tightly
still, however, my face pressed against his forehead, smelling the salt and
anguish from his tears.

	"Shae..." I whisper, lifting a hand to gently, carefully, wipe the strands
of tear-streaked hair that straggle into his closed eyes. He sits there
silently for a moment longer, and then I hear something muffled into my
chest, the warmth of his breath soaking my skin.

	"What?" I ask quietly, unable to understand.

	He sits back slowly, blinking tearily at me, his eyes lifting disorientedly
to find mine. Wiping his tears away with the back of his sleeve, he repeats
himself after a moment, his voice thick and permeated with spent tears.

	"I love you."

	His eyes, full of hysteric fear, are locked on mine. But his voice is calm,
and the three words hang there in between us, tangible and very undeniable.
I stare at him wordlessly, swallowing hurriedly. I gape at him stupidly for
a moment, the words processing, but not fully enough to respond. He watches
me for a moment, and then speaks again, his hands shakily reaching out to
take mine.

	"Please... don't be kidding with me... okay?" His voice is as fragile as
fractured glass.

	I stare at him for a second, and then start shaking my head crazily.

	"I'm not... I'm not," I say, my words stumbling over each other as I
attempt to push them out of my heart. "Sometimes I wish I was..."

	Our fingers lock around each other tightly, not allowing one milimetre of
space to intrude.

	"What... when... Where did.. this come from?" he asks me, after my voice
dies away. His gaze sears me, and I try not to burn. "Why... after... so...
long..." his voice cracks here, and I flinch, desperately trying not to cry
again.

	"I don't know. I wish I did... I just don't know. It just... happened.
About six months ago... and I haven't been able to get you out of my
head..."

	He stares at me for a moment, his eyes probing mine deeply, his expression
insane with yearning. His mouth falls open slowly, but these are the last
words we say to each other for a long time. He doesn't ask me any more
questions, and I can't find anything else to tell him. We just stare at each
other for what seems to be hours, and then I realize vaguely that we are
moving closer to each other, his hands in mine and pulling me towards him,
his eyes twin pools of annhilating power, disrupting any and all thoughts in
my head entirely. I move as he directs me, lost in his gaze which holds me
more securely than any physical thing. I won't let you fall, I hear his eyes
telling me. I won't let you fall away again.

	And it is on this and countless other promises spilling like holy light out
of his eyes that I find his lips again and become lost. His hands move from
mine to caress my cheeks as he kisses me, his fingers slipping through my
hair, always moving, never stopping. I can hear his desperate moans again,
sinking through my lips like music, and I try not to fall into
unconsciousness as he deepens the kiss, taking it to a depth I have never
experienced before. His body holds me completely, his hands become
everything as they move across my face and shoulders, his lips softer than
water and more demanding than a storm. I can feel him pouring his soul into
the contact, I can feel his essence, pure and unfiltered, cascading into me
through our touch, and I moan, my hands finding his arms and holding them
tightly, not wanting to ever break away.

	I've wanted this for so long... just one single kiss from the angel of my
dreams. And now thousands pour down upon me like some incredible rain,
passion and desire fueling them, making them firm and deep. He clutches me
tightly, and it is then that I hear his voice, whispering to me in between
each crimson kiss and confession of long-hidden desire.

	"I love you.. I love you.."

*	*	*	*

	Sitting in the cramped seat of my first class of the day, school has never
seemed so pointless. Here I am, in this run-down old building, in this
awful, sterile classroom, with a blank-faced prof droning on and on about
something I am sure to never use again, staring at the back of Shae's head,
wishing like hell that the walls would all fall away and the room would
dissolve into a place drenched with romaticsm and beauty.. a place where I
could be with him and him alone. But no. I'm stuck in this tiny, metal seat,
Professor Alec is on a endless roll, and Shae is sitting merely a few feet
away from me, his eyes locked on nothingness, his posture tense and
restless. Last night is when everything exploded between us... and because
he had to go deal with the police and doctors in the evening, I haven't
really seen him since. He stayed with a friend for the night who lives
closer to the police station, and didn't get back until just now, in time
for class.

	When he walked into the room, it felt like just then I realized I hadn't
been breathing properly since he left last night, and now that he had
returned, it was like breathing the most pure, holy air. I had been sitting
in my seat, mindlessly scrawling on the desk with an empty pen, my mind
locked feverishly upon him. And when I heard the door open, I looked up, and
saw him standing there, sheilding his eyes from the studio lighting and
looking around slowly. Everyone in the class almost pissed themselves in
shock to see him there; he got so many greetings and people running up to
him to give him hugs, assail him with countless questions. I was too stunned
to move... so... paralyzed by seeing him again. My heart felt like it was
rising out of my chest, out of the room, past the clouds and into the
blue-green infinity of eternity. He returned all the hugs, politely answered
what questions he could. He even got a smile and a nod from Professor Alec,
which resulted in Shae gaping at him for a moment, which left me laughing
helplessly. That is when he saw me.. his eyes moved from Alec to me
instantly, and his face seemed to change... the weariness left it and fell
away, leaving something beautiful, youthful and radiant in its place. His
smile was like the confession of a battle cry, and the light in his eyes was
like the clear ringing of silver trumpets.

	I smile as I remember this, and a feeling of warm fuzziness sweeps through
me, making me shiver in disbelieving happiness. I look down to my notebook,
and write my last thought down, 'the clear ringing of silver trumpets', and
grin stupidly. The next time I look up, it is to find Shae's quick,
startling gaze on my own. He is looking over his shoulder up at me, a small,
half-smile on his lips that makes me feel weak. His hand is resting in his
hair, with his elbow on the table, giving his face an angle that at once
looks both erotic and hopelessly perfect. The studio light above us pours
down upon him, making his hair almost impossibly golden, making his
eyelashes look as though they have been set alight with the ordained fire of
God. I can barely see the calm, indigo depths of his eyes behind the
effervescence of his face, but his smile is calm and almost secretive,
relaying what must lie in his gaze.

	But he looks away again, hurriedly, not wanting Alec to notice and get on
his case. He stares at the desk in front of him, and the empty notebook that
lies open upon it. He holds a pen in his fingers, and I watch wonderingly as
he begins to write something. It isn't anything to do with the lesson, I
know, because the letters are too artistically written and enhanced to be
anything that Alec is saying. I narrow my eyes and try to sharpen my vision,
straining to see. But I needn't of tried, because in a moment, he glances at
me with another tiny, sugar-spice smile, and looks back to the paper, moving
his arm so that I can see it more clearly. In his water-like script, the
words 'In all that exists, none have your beauty', are written in simple
elegance on the page. I blink for a moment, and then look back up at him
just in time to see his gaze change, become something so serious and
yearning that I can't help but shiver at its call. But he is looking away
again, and the page is turned as Alec delivers a spectacled glare our way.

	I stare hopelessly at the back of his head, feeling my heart beginning to
hurt with delicious pain and love. Such a beautiful collection of words..
and he.. _he_ directed them at me. I slept with his journal last night,
holding it like a babe in my arms, waking almost every half hour to remember
his kiss, his bright, desperate gaze... to giggle madly at the ceiling
before falling asleep again... half torn in a storm of desire and fear of
rejection tomorrow.

	"-due on Thursday. You may go."

	I jump slightly as Alec says these words, the only words that have
registered for the whole two hours. But hurriedly I am shoving my books into
my bag, and I watch Shae do the same. We stand at the same time, and by
unspoken agreement, we let everyone else file past us and out before we take
the first hesitant steps towards each other. I can feel my fingers shaking
and my heart thumping erratically, and he is looking at me strangely.
Uncertainly, I realize. Worriedly.

	"Morning," I half-whisper, struggling to find a way to make the words
audible.

	He offers me that half-smile again, and runs his fingers through his hair,
watching me carefully. "Hey," he says softly, his voice anything but his
usual calm tranquility.

	"How did everything go last night?" I ask him, feeling as though I am
floating seven inches off the ground.

	"Okay," he says, clearing his throat in a hopelessly endearing attempt to
make his voice less shaky. I want to kiss him..

	"Just okay?"

	"Yeah... you know how it's like with the police. They go over everything at
least four times."

	"Were Marc and Derek there?"

	He nods slowly, and I see a ghost of pain flicker across his gaze for a
moment. "Yes. We're going to have to go to court quite a bit in the next
couple of months... they have alot to answer to."

	I nod, my fingers itching to reach out and touch him, push that memory of
pain away with a burning kiss.

	"What about the doctors?" I ask, my gaze searching his. "What did they
say?"

	"The usual. Wanted me to go back to the hospital.. stay another night for
observation, but I told them I couldn't do that."

	I frown slightly as he regards me with his steady gaze. "You couldn't?"

	He shakes his head then, and takes a step towards me. With eyes of
punishing blueness locked on mine, I feel his hands taking mine, holding
them gently. His fingers curl around mine slowly, completely, making me
shiver with insane delight.

	"No," he says in a whisper. "I couldn't."

	And with that, he raises my trembling hands to his lips, kissing the backs
of them gently, his body almost completely pressed up against mine, hiding
our interaction from Alec, who is packing up his stuff behind us. I stare in
disembodied shock as Shae does this, and almost lose my balance as his eyes
close, his cheek rubbing gently against my skin, his lips pressing what
seems like hundreds of tiny, lava kisses to my fingers and palms.

	"I couldn't..." He whispers, his voice breaking, becoming something so
fragile and yet stronger than steel... "I couldn't."

	Don't cry, I beg myself, blinking crazily as I feel the familiar tears
start to sting. I let my fingers touch his face, I run my hands across his
cheeks and jawline, across those incredible lips, trace his eyebrows and
tangle into his hair, all the while feeling him kiss my hands as they move,
never letting me get far enough away so that he can't. I hear his breathing
changing, becoming more unsteady, and I know with each kiss, he is pounding
unsaid words into its embrace, stamping his soul on each one, giving it all
to me without hesitation or inhibition. Though he has clothes on, he is
naked. I don't know how else to explain it. It is starting to drive me
slowly mad...

	"Shepperdson, McDairmuid? Don't you have classes to get to?"

	I blink, Shae's eyes open, and instantly we step away from each other. He
clears his throat and nods at Alec quickly, offering a smile without any
mirth behind it. Alec eyes us for a moment but then looks back down to his
desk. Letting Shae step by me, I follow him out of the class, into the
stream of people moving through the hallways. It is only then that I catch
sight of Brendan. He is leaning up against the opposite wall, and I know
without asking that he was watching us through the window. Incredibly, I see
him hurriedly lift a hand to his eyes, wiping away tears. I blink at him,
and he grins embarassedly at me, looking away quickly. But Shae has his hand
in mine suddenly and is pulling me away, down towards the exit. I guess he
didn't see Brendan.

	"Where are we going?" I ask him distractedly, losing myself to his touch.

	"To your next class," he informs me in his normal steady tone of voice,
with a touch of amusement.

	"Oh," I say, and he looks over his shoulder at me, grinning.

	"Will you pick me up tonight?" he asks quietly, maneuvering me past people
that scurry down the hall.

	"You're going to _work_?" I ask him, frowning at the back of his head, our
previous moment forgotten temporarily.

	"Yes," he says. "I have to. I need to get my pay cheque, and tell them I'm
back and stuff. I'm not going to stay. But I will be going there straight
after my last class. Jamie's going to give me a ride."

	At the mention of Jamie's name, the old familiar sting of momentary dislike
comes back, but I say nothing on it.

	"Okay. I'll be there."

	"Thank you," he says, and then comes to a stop. Turning, with his hand
still in mine, he stands before me, his expression becoming serious again,
sensuous and completely annihilating. I stare at him like a child, and he
squeezes my fingers gently. But before he can do anything else, I am pulling
my hands away from his and stepping closer, slipping my fingers under his
jacket and around his chest, pulling him into an embrace. I hear him gasp
involuntarily as I do this, but after a half-second, his arms move around me
and hold me tightly, and I feel his face pressing into the space between my
shoulder and neck, his breath warm on my skin. The hug is gentle, but it
whispers of more, of the need and want to be more, but being where we are,
impossible. I shiver as I realize this, and as he feels me do this, he
presses a kiss to my neck.

	Bad idea. Once I feel the feather-like touch of his warm, satin touch
against that part of my body, it seems like he has pressed a hidden button
that eradicates any ability to stay casual and gentle. I feel my body react
instantly; my arms tighten around him and my throat emits a whispered,
completely involuntary moan into his hair. He stays still after I do this,
as if he didn't hear, but I know he did because his body slowly begins to
tense. He doesn't step away, however, and after a taut moment, he moves his
head slightly, pressing another, more full-on kiss to my neck. A shudder
crashes up my spine, and I gasp helplessly, biting my lower lip hard as I
feel that kiss start to burn, the tendrils of its energy sinking down
throughout my body. I know we are in the middle of the hallway.. and
distantly I realize that people are still walking its length, but he is
kissing me again, this time pulling back slightly so he can breathe, and his
breath lands like molten rain on my skin, something almost worse than
kissing.

	"This is your class," he murmurs softly, his voice thick and strained.

	"What?" I whisper disorientedly, my whole body straining to get another
kiss... just one more kiss...

	"Your class," he says again. "We're in front of your class... I think it's
started..."

	"Um," I say, but anything else I would have said to that is shoved aside as
he kisses me again.

	"You should go," he gasps, as I hold him tighter after that last kiss, my
whole body straining against his.

	"Yeah..." I whisper weakly, struggling not to cry out softly as he kisses
me again and again, making my whole body feel as though it is wilting.. on
fire and withering...

	His arms hold me tightly, and I feel his fingers pressing into my back. He
is shaking just as badly as I am, I realize, and this is the last coherent
thought I have as his tongue escapes his lips, its wet velvet gently tracing
lightning across my skin. Kisses intermittant with caresses of his tongue
leave me breathless, a complete rag doll in his arms. I am no longer
standing because I am able. He holds me upright as he commits this
treacherous fellatio on my neck, and I know I am whimpering, making him gasp
with each whimper, and therefore making his kisses deeper, his tongue more
and more exploratory. I feel the cold steel of the zipper on my jeans
pressing mercilessly against my hard-on, and I know that if he kisses me for
much longer, he's going to end up knowing that it's there. Distantly I
wonder if maybe I'm not the only one with a erection, but the thought proves
too erotic for me to handle and I push it away quickly, not willing to let
myself do what my body screams to do.

	"Miah..." I hear him whisper as he kisses me. "Class..."

	He's asking me to stop him, I realize. And not because he wants to....
because he needs me to. Because he _can't_. And this, more than anything, is
what makes it harder, me harder.. all of it too damn hard. But I manage it.
Nodding, I reluctantly let go of him, my fingers pulsating with pain as they
are forced away from his body.

	"Okay," I say, clearing my throat, trying to gain some semblance of
normality.

	We untangle ourselves slowly, and he glances at me quickly as he steps
back. His gaze is eratic, flickering from mine to the floor, his cheeks
flushed and an incredible wild light in his eyes. I run my fingers through
my hair distractedly and try to smile at him, still feeling his kisses and
tongue on my neck, the warm feeling of desire throbbing throughout my whole
body.

	"Okay," he echoes me softly, and then offers me a shaky smile. "See you
after work..."

	I nod and take a step back, putting my hand on the door handle. With a
final, quick, longing smile, I dissapear into the class. The door closes
behind me with a click, and I make my way to my seat, trying to ingore the
fire in my groin and the racing beat of my heart.

*	*	*	*

	The past two days have been a dream. Hours melted away like smoky
nothingness in his presence, and the ones without him have faded into
memory. Time started to go strangely when he slammed me to the floor, and I
felt his fists pummel me into darkness and red pain. I felt his tears
landing on my face, hot and white, and the words mixed with them were the
very trigger that sent me off on this wild mind-bend. It's weird how the
very things that your soul desires with all of its fibre are only granted to
it in moments of sheer intensity and pain. I thought it was the end of our
friendship when I opened the door to find Miah on the floor of my room, with
my notebook spread open across his lap. And when he started screaming at me,
I had already started to form a haphazard plan to go down to the dorm-master
and ask for a transfer. But then his words... his words changed everything.
Brought me out of the fear of hatred like nothing else could have.

	I keep watching him... keep looking for signs of change, something in his
eyes or his movements that will tell me he is going through a temporary bout
of insanity and will snap out of it horribly soon... but none of this
occurs. It is all a dream. When I kiss him...I feel like I have descended
into the dreamworld that I have lived in for years, a place I reach as soon
as I fall asleep. But then the realization that it is all real kicks in, and
I have to struggle not to fall unconscious... when I feel his touch and his
kiss, it becomes too much... like a fire threatening to overwhelm me with
its phenomenal entirety. And above all.. to feel him _react_ to me.. is...
the keys to heaven granted to me for as long as I can keep him in my arms.

	All these thoughts swirl through my head as I sit by the entry door to my
work, waiting for him to come pick me up. Every so often, someone new will
walk by and welcome me back, but they all fade away as my anticipation and
anxiety take over. I don't remember much of the whole hospital thing... all
I can recall is hearing bones break under my fists as I hit Derek, Miah
screaming something at me, and then waking up in the intensive care unit,
the flourescent lighting the first thing that penetrated my consciousness.
My head hurt alot, that I remember... but the pain has been shoved to the
back of my mind ever since yesterday. And I had to put up with countless
doctors and nurses telling me I was damn lucky to have woken up at all...
which is the weirdest thing I have ever had to experience. It may sound
trivial.. but to talk to and look at people that were there when I was on
the verge of dying is just....fucked up. To see their looks of complete
surprise as they see that I am awake, and to hear their cautious questions
about my memory is very disorienting. I had no doubt I would wake up... how
could I not? But to come face to face with someone who assuredly expected to
have to wheel my body off to the morgue... ugh.

	But it was all pushed aside by his kiss. All the pain burned away... even
as fresh wounds began to throb.  I feel like I have been granted another
chance... a chance to fix everything I screwed up. And it only took almost
dying to get me this far...

*	*	*	*

	Nervously I watch with baited breath as the door to Shae's work swings open
and I see his blonde hair and slender figure slip into view. He halts
momentarily to wave farewell at someone inside, and I see his smile
stretching across his lips with a joyous cant before he turns away again and
heads towards the truck. He's got his cheque in his hands, and as he
approaches, he folds it up and slips it into his jacket pocket, looking up
to the window, his gaze flickering through the moon-dappled night to find
mine through the glass. We stare at each other for a moment, my face
probably plastered with a stupid, nervous grin, and then he lifts a hand up
to his forehead, offering me a little, lazy salute before coming around to
open my door. It creaks open with an ominous shriek, but neither of us pay
it any heed as he stands there, the wind pouring into the car, laced with
the freshness of the pine trees and subtle scent of his cologne.

	Unable to take my eyes off of him, I unbuckle my seatbelt and move over,
letting him swing himself up and in. He yanks the door shut behind him, and
takes the keys from me as I hand them to him. I am about to move to the very
other end so that I can put on a seatbelt, for there isn't one in the
middle, but his hand on my arm stops me. I look up at him questioningly, my
cheeks already on fire from being near him. His skin is pale and electric in
the moonlight, his hair looks silver and alive. His magnetic eyes regard me
quietly for a moment, their blueness looking almost black in the white-blue
light.

	"Stay?" he asks softly, his fingers warming me through the shirt I wear.

	I nod wordlessly and stay in my spot, our bodies inches apart, and his
customary heat eradicating the shivers I didn't know I had. He offers me a
slow, languid smile as he starts the engine, and his hand falls away from me
as he moves the gearshift. I sit there silently, letting myself become drunk
on his energy, his familiar beauty, watching him as he drives. We are silent
for a while, and I watch the streetlamp lights glide like fish over the hood
of the truck and into the cabin, slipping onto the steering wheel and his
hands, illuminating the slender, aching perfection of his fingers and
masculine wrists with a pale orange glow. And then, I hear his voice.

	"You read my book," he says without preamble, his eyes locked on the road
and his voice unreadable.

	I swallow. "Yeah," I say stupidly, but unable to think of anything else to
say to that.

	"Who told you about it?"

	I look down, and stare at the disembodied light of the timedial on the
console, the ectoplasm-green numbers flickering meaninglessly in my vision.

	"Jamie," I reply, watching him move his foot from the gas to the break
pedal as we hit a red light.

	"Ah," he says, and then is silent. I listen to his steady breathing for a
while.

	"Are you angry?"

	I feel him glance over at me, and I look up. His gaze is calm and serious,
and he shakes his head.

	"No. Are you?" The last words are added on as an afterthought, but I can
tell they are loaded with worry.

	I frown at this, but belatedly catch his meaning. I try to muster up as
sincere an expression as I can, and I think it works, because I instantly
see him pale and then flush, looking down.

	"Shae..." I say, my words becoming slowly more and more inelegant.
"Shae...what you wrote.. was...-"

	The change of the light from red to green distracts me, and Shae looks back
to the road as we start driving again, but his pensive expression tells me
his mind is not paying attention to it.

	"-..was incredible. Beautiful..."

	He is silent for a while, and then I watch as his hand falls away from the
steering wheel to land on my hand, where our fingers mould together
instantly, and I hold on to him for dear life, exhaling with long-pent up
breath that has been doing nothing but desiring to touch him again. He holds
my hand with his usual firm strength, but the way his fingers keep moving
against my own, like they are seeking to move somehow deeper into my touch
tells me that I wasn't the only one who'd been craving to be held. He sighs
shakily as we do this, and then as we hit another red light, he transfers
his diamond-bright gaze over to me softly.

	"You really thought that kiss meant nothing? The one in your room.. with
Brendan and things..."

	I glance away as he says this, and try to shrug casually.

	"Yeah. You.. were.. drunk...and..." My voice trails off here and I stare
out into the trees on the side of the road, lost to the touch of his hand..
but not able to look at him.

	"And?" he echos softly, his fingers squeezing mine, making me look back at
him reluctantly.

	"And.. I saw you with Jamie..." I tell him, and instantly feel his fingers
fall lax.

	He looks down at his lap as I say this, but the change of the light brings
his gaze back up again and the truck moves off again. I watch him carefully,
and see him bite his lower lip slowly, his expression one so full of bitter
regret that it makes me blink, and hold his hand tighter, trying to squeeze
strength back into his fingers again.

	"Did you ask Jamie about that?" he asks in something akin to a whisper.

	I nod. "Yes."

	"What did he tell you?"

	I inhale slowly. "He told me that... well... that it.. was.. convienient.
For both of you."

	His fingers flicker back into life. And when he speaks, his words almost
seem to be coming out of Brendan's mouth.

	"And it was. That's all it was. That whole kiss thing... meant so much.
And... I thought that... it didn't, to you. I was sure of it. I thought I
had... fucked up again. But I couldn't get it out of my head... like I can
never get you out of my head. It was.. distracting me all the time. So.. I..
told Jamie about it.. and.. one thing led to another... and I would never
have done it under normal circumstances... but... it'd been so long since
anything... and I wanted...so.. bad."

	His words are rushed and stumbling, and the whole time his cheeks are
ablaze with a rosy blush, which only makes his words all the more erotic, as
casual as he'd tried to make them. I flush as well, and look down, unsure of
what to say to that. The rest of the way home is spent in silence; I can
feel our thoughts crackling and sparking as they touch against each other in
the confined space around us, and Shae's fingers are warm facts of assurance
in my own. He drives with one hand the entire way, utterly refusing to let
go of my hand, even at my timid request. In answer to it, he merely pulls me
closer to him, so now my body is pressed up right against his, and my cheek
rests gently on his shoulder, our gazes locked on the twilight-tattooed road
slipping away like liquid sand beneath the tires.

	I close my eyes as we turn into the campus, and simply breathe in as deeply
as I can, smelling the soft, human scent of his skin and the laundry soap
perfume still clinging to his shirt. The fabric is soft and it rubs against
my cheek like the promise of some strange dream, and beneath it all I cannot
forget that it is his body which gives the fabric so much special beauty:
the shuddering perfection of his shoulder under the dark blue material.. in
my mind's eye I run incorporeal fingers across his tanned skin, touch the
light freckles that adorn the tops of his shoulders like the memory of some
ancient parley with angel wings. I remember the soft caramel-spice texture
of the flesh, and I long to touch it as I feel his shoulder move under me,
as our hands untangle as he is forced to apply the gearshift.

	"We're here," he says softly, the gentleness in the tone almost making me
think he knows of my thoughts and of the complete scanctity I view them
with.

	I nod, and reluctantly I lift my head away from his shoulder, feeling
exhaustion sweeping through me as I do so. I can feel him watching me, but I
stare blankly at the dashboard, not wanting to move from this moment, this
feeling of warmth and holiness, locked in close captivity with him, knowing
that I have access to this, that now, finally, I can read into it as much as
I wish. That he is here with the same love in his heart as I am. After a
while of simply sitting, and feeling his questioning gaze on my profile, I
feel his arm slip around my shoulders lightly. I look up into his eyes
slowly, and watch as his gaze takes on a smiling, almost sparkling
countenance, his fingers wrapping with what I dreamily like to think is
possessiveness around my shoulder.

	"You okay?" he asks, his head tilting slightly as he asks, regarding me
with his usual peircing clairvoyance.

	"Yeah," I tell him, impulsively reaching over and kissing his cheek
quickly, pressing my lips to his skin for a brief moment before remembering
myself and pulling away again, a blush already stealing over my
consciousness.

	His lips instantly switch into a perfect smile, one so delightedly
surprised that it makes me giggle stupidly. He lifts his other hand to the
cheek, and rubs it gently, his eyes two glittering peices of indigo sky as
they watch me.

	"Thank you..." he says in a half-whisper, his expression so boyishly cute
that I have to look down and away, playfully nudging him in the side as I
kill the engine.

	"Let's go inside," I tell him, handing him the keys.

	He grins and nods, and shoves the door open, slipping out and holding it
open for me as I slide out and to the ground. Slipping the keys into his
pocket after he has locked the door, he kicks the door shut and begins to
walk with me across the parking lot, the darkness complete around us. In
silence we walk, my mind locked on the rhythmic pattern of his booted
footfall on the asphalt, and the shivering sound of his breath as the icy
air is drawn into his lungs. But after a while, I realize where we are, and
I look up slowly to find the streetlamp in the middle of the lot, and
unbidden, I draw to a halt.

	Unseeingly I stare at the neon glow, fixated on the pavement drenched in
its ugly brilliance. And in a far away place, images become superimposed
upon others, and I lose sight of the reality of the emptiness... and instead
I see Shae's recumbant figure lying there... flashes of the silver baseball
bat rising and falling like quicksilver, beautiful like the deadly flight of
an arrow before it kills. Blood crimson and metallic-sweet drenches the
asphalt everywhere, turning the gray to a rusty sickness. A horror so deep
overtakes me as I stare into this, and I long to tear away from it, but my
mind holds me prisoner, makes me relive that which I have strived so long to
try and forget...

	"Miah."

	I feel his hand on my arm suddenly, his grip almost numbingly tight,
shaking me mercilessly. I blink, and then I feel the hot sting of tears
escaping my eyes and pitching down my face. His hands are on my shoulders,
and then I feel him pushing me, making me stumble away from it, shoving me
into the shadows, his steps hurried and urgent. My chest shudders as I deny
it breath, tears too white-hot and painful to allow it burning in my heart.
And then I am in his arms, and he is holding me tightly, pressing me to his
chest, making me lose myself to the warm darkness of his essence, blinding
me from the ugly scene not more than twenty feet away.

	"Oh, Miah..." he whispers, and I feel his fingers running through my hair,
his kisses falling like empathetic, desperate rain on my head. I don't say
anything as he lets me stand there, and he doesn't demand anything of me as
he holds me, his arms two pillars of strength around my frail seeming body.
I can feel my tears spreading like a stain of pain upon his shirt, but I can
do nothing to stop them. The darkness sits resolute around us, embracing us
in its sensuous entirety as I struggle to move myself up and away from the
memory. The ground is solid and firm, the air is sharp and ghostly, and Shae
is like God, a god of burden and pain, and therefore a god made beautiful
through his eternal struggle to make it through the hell created for him. I
want to tell him that I know his secret... that I know of the angel wings he
tries so hard to hide, and of the endless trials and fires that have
hardened him to the point of stone... the stone that only breaks apart when
I am around.

	"Your secret's safe with me," I whisper to him, but I don't know if he
hears it, because he says nothing in reply. He only holds me tighter, and
right then, I feel him break apart. I feel the stone shatter, and in a
moment of brilliance and perception and divine understanding, he gives his
pain over to me. For a glorious span of time that in later times I cannot
count, I feel as though our hearts have become one, our minds work as
symbiants in perfect harmony. And all it took was for him to allow it. His
memories of the past two weeks come crashing into me, and I feel the
lonliness of the pain, and the nowhereness he disapeared into when the bat
connected with his skull. And it goes deeper and deeper... in a spiralling
flash of pure emotion that leaves me shaking in his already trembling grip,
I see all the anger and fear of the past long years, his hatred for me, his
love for me, his frustrated lust for me. And just before we break apart, he
lets me into a place that I've never been to before, a place that I always
wondered and feared about, and a place that I never wanted him to have to
experience... a place that broke my heart into so many splintering peices
that I didn't know if it would ever heal.

	...I feel the excruciating pain throughout my whole body.. and I hear the
mocking, demon-like sound of _that_ voice resounding like an earthquake
centered in my head, I hear the laughter as I am violated, as hands strong
enough to crush my slender shoulders pin me down. I feel water threatening
to drown me as he keeps hurting and thrusting, and above everything else I
feel my anger at the tears that get lost in the flow of water, blood and
pain, at the admittance of defeat to this monster. I acknowledge my lust to
kill, but I cannot do so because I am not strong enough, because he has won.
And he will continue to win, night after night, until I become strong enough
to push him off, until I beat his face into a bloody pulp, leaving his teeth
and hair all over the floor. And I will hate him for this forever, curse his
name into purgatory as he not only rapes me physically, but also rapes me of
the ability to feel pleasure of anything physical for the dark years to
come. And when I wake up, screaming from nightmares, each time will solidify
my hatred, each time will add another brick to the wall, cutting everyone
off forever, I will NOT let anyone in... not again. Not ever...

	But Shae is pulling away from me and the moment is broken, stolen again. I
am left seived, staring at him with wide, burning eyes, eyes into which he
will not look, knowing full well what he let them see. Instead he takes my
hand and leads me away again, not letting me see the tears I know stain his
eyes, not able to voice what the tightness of his hand in my own tells me.
He speaks then, softly, almost without sound, and it is only because I know
the words from before that I am able to recognize them.

	"I'm not made of steel..."

	The world becomes beautiful. Painful, horrible, beautiful. I hold his hand
tightly, and although we walk in darkness, it is a darkness so bright that I
have to close my eyes against it.

*	*	*	*